


before the worst

by affability



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Homecoming Dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 19:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/affability/pseuds/affability
Summary: A slow dance before a fast crash. Betty/Jughead.





	before the worst

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during To Riverdale and Back Again, 1x11.

** a/n:  ** we should have gotten a dance between these two and you damn well know it. vaguely AU—set before everything went to hell with ronnie and archiekins.

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** before the worst ** **  
** — a slow dance before a fast crash. betty/jughead.

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Here's how she holds your hand:

Tenderly—like the rustling of the wind, her petal-soft fingers intertwine with yours as she goads you to the dance floor. Her eyes, brilliant, blue and all things in between, meet yours and oh does it makes you feel alive. The Cooper girl certainly has a knack for igniting fire within the depths of your bones, this you note as she tightens her grip on your palm. However, she does this gingerly—a little  _too_  gingerly, almost as if she's afraid she might break you if she clung on too tightly if she held you for a second too long.

Here's how she hooks her arms around your neck:

Calmly—like she's done so a thousand times before, as if it has become second nature to her. Her fingers graze your neck as she tilts her head to the right when she gives you a bashful smile. You grin, because the girl in front of you has always been at the brink of equanimity ( _Betty Cooper does not get nervous_ , she'd insist to hell and back from the days where your days were filled with sandboxes and crayon-colored papers), however the shy smiles and downward glances have become more apparent and you're only starting to realize the effect you've begun to have on her, and you notice that it mimics the one she's had on you for as long as you've known her.

Here's how she kisses you:

Like all the time in the world belongs to the two of you. It's not new, not entirely—the both of you have done this before, several times over many months. First, with hearts confined by walls of fear and impetuousness, as you pushed past acres of sunshine coiled locks and rose-tinted skin while placing your hands on her neck so she'd finally know how you've been feeling for a good chunk of your life. It had spurred endless moments of half-damped kisses, of casual brushing of lips—on cheeks, on foreheads, and on hands. But this time, she does this slowly, savoring the moment, as the clock freezes in its tracks and all the ticks and tocks are captured between your fingertips.

Here's what she says:

"I love you," colored with hushed tones and reddened cheeks, as the array of blue and purple lights drench her. Her voice is warm, candy-coated even, and it sends more shivers down your taste buds than all the strawberry milkshakes you've consumed at Pop's ever could. You fumble with her golden ringlets carefully, your heart soaring as she meets your gaze because she's  _yoursyoursyours_  and while you are still but a freshly-turned sixteen-year-old who wears his hat too low and lives too recklessly for his own good, you know the Cooper girl has already ruined you for anybody else.

And here's your response:

You find it hard to breathe— _but haven't you always?_ —the humid air and the sporadic  _thumping_  that your heart undertakes after she tells you this doesn't make it any easier. It is in that moment whereby you place your hand on her neck and embed your lips unto hers, like you did all those months ago, allowing the smile that steals her glossed lips to be reflected on yours. And when you pull away, the familiar grin that envelops your mouth feels like  _coming home_. The thought stops you, defers you as you realize that your sanctuary has always been the warmth of her arms and not within the confines of four walls, no matter where you are.

You'll never get used to her.

"I love you."

And, frankly, you never want to.

.

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** a/n ** : the cool thing to do is to leave a review (see how that rhymed?—i'm a poet and i don't know it)


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